Category: Shared Grief (Page 3 of 28)

Saddle Up, Another Year is Here

December 28, 2025 / Mama Fish

This Christmas was different. Each of us recognized there was something missing. It wasn’t the same; the happy holiday sentiments were empty. It seemed like another task. I hated our neighbor’s Santa decor, each morning displaying the number of days until Christmas arrived. I wanted to kick him. I was ready, in all the materialistic manners, only my heart was not.

This year I battled. Hard. It was an exercise in compromise. Life brought with it major changes on all levels. It forced us to reevaluate who we are, who we want to be and who we want to be with. The answers were not familiar. Strong ties are now broken and new events substituted tradition.

Social media shouts, it was the year of the snake. This was the year we were to shed what is no longer fitting. It was supposed to be a hard year of transformation. I don’t recall knowing that at the start of this year. And yet, we seemed to have lived the meaning of what the snake brings. I am opposed to this because I am not a creature of change. I hate change. In fact, I will choose to live with what is uncomfortable to avoid change. My family is different. They seem to embrace the necessary hardship of change, looking past the difficulty of now to the possibility of what might be. I seem to be stuck. I can only see what it was. And I miss it.

At the end of Christmas, it was not the same, but not terrible. It brought new experiences and revised editions of past rituals. We got together. Just not altogether. We did laugh. I did cry. Some of the feelings were reminiscent of past times and a few new joys. All in all, it was the usual bittersweet I live. And goals for the New Year…well they are being planned.

2026 will be the year of the horse. Bold, strong, galloping into the anticipation of better. The horse symbolizes heading forward to what one has discovered from the past year’s shedding of what ails us. Right now, I feel like an old mare. I don’t have any desire to leave the pasture of my past. I can’t see how the grass may be greener on the other side. In fact, I am fearful of what might be hidden there.

Alas, it will soon arrive, so I share with you ‘bah humbug’ sentiments, honoring a character we rewatched as part of our holiday movie collection, Mr. Grinch.

It came with gifts, it came with toys, it came dressed up, with toasts of joy.

It brought cookies, squares, baked goods and pies, it brought mittens and markets and presents to buy.

It gathered those from near and from far to sip happy hours at local bars. This season was filled with so much to do. It hardly gave me time to sit next to you.

Yes, Christmas came with its markers and makers, it came with its festivals, top shows and its shakers. It brought in the moments, the ribbon and presents, and left with reminders of a notable essence.

Maybe, just maybe with angels nearby, we can carry our grief without answers why. And maybe, just maybe the cosmic stars’ mystery will bring signs of new happy wonders to see…

2026 is about the horse, may each of you have a comfortable saddle, and a wide-open course.

Values Are One’s Compass

December 21, 2025 / Mama Fish

One of my medical appointments related to my health was to determine if I am experiencing burnout. In this meeting, she asked me if I was clear of what my values were. She suggested a website that outlines value themes and to choose the top ten that I feel align with my beliefs and then narrow that number down to three. Or maybe five if three seemed daunting. I told her that I knew what they were, had already done a test such as that in my line of work. She asked if I had done it since 2018. No, I had not. She smiled, “grief can change one’s values.”

It was an aha moment for me. Grief has changed the way I feel, reason, behave…why would I think my values are the same as before. I agreed to review the list and discovered that what I valued before Zane was killed, only one of the values is still in accordance with my present beliefs. Worse, most of my daily actions are supporting no values, my past or my newly identified values. No wonder the internal turmoil I am experiencing is so loud.

My old values were family/friends, work, health, community and social. I work in community with no boundaries; guilt knocks me over if I am not there for family and friends and thus my busy social life which contributes to my poor health. It is almost laughable.

My new list contains ideals that are reflective of my pain. The first is inner harmony. I want my soul to quit screaming. If I have this, it will bring me peace. The second is spirituality. 2018 taught me that there is more to life than this, that the connection to the other realm, to God, to my loved ones in spirit is my salvation. This value brings me balance. The third value is still family/friends. I believe that friends and family are the same. For me, family is like the sun. Everything revolves around them. This is my true community.

If I am permitted to have another two values, they would be creativity and wealth as I believe that the right creativity could bring wealth. And this combination will bring me opportunity.

It was amusing that work, community, social and health got kicked off the new list. Work is fine, I am closer to retirement than the fight to climb the professional ladder. My community was too big and became filled with associates rather than relationships which created obligations not celebrations. And social, grief insists that solitude replace it.

Health, I was surprised that it was not on my list given that I spent most of 2025 in medical offices. I have come to believe that health is part of one’s fate. Yes, we must do the right things, diet, exercise, sleep, moderation…but it has become more a daily undertaking, not a value. And if I am honoring my values, my health will surely benefit.

I think my therapist might be on to something with this value alignment. At the end of the session, it was confirmed that I am experiencing total emotional burnout. Which, she believes is part of the underlining manifestation of my physical issues. I am sure my herbalist would agree. I now begin a journey to heal. Both mentally, physically and emotionally. It is fitting that this has all happened at the end of the year when goals and dreams and hopes for the next are being considered. My ideals for 2026 will focus on how to create a life that honors my new values.

Coldplay On Candle Lighting Day

December 14, 2025 / Mama Fish

Today is World Candle Lighting Day. It began in 1997 to acknowledge those who have lost a child. The idea behind it is to light a candle in their memory at 7pm local time. It has become the largest global commemoration. In essence, Candle Lighting Day represents the act of illuminating physical and metaphorical darkness. It is a powerful and universally understood gesture of hope, memory, and unity. A fitting way to celebrate our children.

We do this each year. Sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. This year a group of grieving moms are gathering for brunch to share stories over the warmth of lit candles. It will include laughter and tears, and it will bring a sense of comfort through the friendship of a path shared.

A poem is often included as part of the candle lighting. I have written my own in the past. This year, I leaned on the musical talents of the band Coldplay to accompany my ritual. The song “It was all yellow” is about the love of another and the desire to do great things in honor of that love. A fitting theme to the love a mother has for her child.

The ‘yellow’ referring to the stars in the song can also be the yellow flame of a burning candle. And thus, as I light my candle tonight, in remembrance of Zane, in honor of all the children watching us from the other realm, I will hum:

“Look at the stars,

Look how they shine for you

And everything you do

Yea, they were all yellow”

The first time I heard this song, it was sung by a talented daughter of a friend. I had no idea it was one from a band Zane enjoyed. I sung it a lot before he was killed. I couldn’t after, it was too close to my new truth. He had become a part of the stars that were once shining for him. This year, I appreciate the idea that our children’s energy can be seen in the stars. The song has a deeper and more poignant meaning now.

“Look at the stars,

Look how they shine for you,

And everything you do

Yea, they are all yellow…”

With Grief’s Permission

November 30, 2025 / Mama Fish

As a kid growing up, I enjoyed American Thanksgiving. My cousins would travel to our home from Montana to join us. The holiday included a trip to Eddie Bauer, shopping for Canadian treasures to take back, like bacon, wieners, Tylenol 222 and Canadian beer. Dinner was the traditional turkey, with all the fixings. It was a favorite time for y’all. We still celebrate it, in remembrance of those days.

This year I noticed how different my favorite holiday has become. Empty. It is without the fanfare of my childhood. It lacks the full table (so many are missing, including my cousins). It lacks the sounds of chatter with a slight drawl. It lacks my mother’s kitchen, small with the window steamed from the heat of the oven and pots boiling. It lacks my father’s presence, rocking in his chair with the dog on his lap, cocktail on the side table, next to the ashtray with a cigarette always smoldering.

This holiday was always about family. The whole family. Not the small Canadian Thanksgiving family. No, American Thanksgiving was big, bold, loud and oh so energizing. It included everyone. It shouted we are together. It contained the sharing of what was happening, what was being planned, and always the latest antics of my crazy southern family. You went to bed that night so full of food, wine and laughter that you couldn’t sleep.

For some reason, this year, the happiness of yesteryear came through the front door, stomping around in my head like a full piece band. Perhaps it was because this year was like any other day. It started off rough, it included too much work, stress, mess and a rush home to ‘whip up’ dinner. It did not contain any extended family. It did not pause any ugly realities. The day had me so totally exhausted that I found myself having a hard cry before my daughter and husband came home to join me for dinner.

Grief. This Thanksgiving my grief sat at the head of the table. It reminded me of how old I am. How tired I have become. I countered it with the game of gratitude. I am aware and appreciative of all that I do have. Then my grief reached its hand across the table to hold mine and whispered to me, “it’s ok to cry for the many empty seats at your table.”

And with that, with grief’s permission, I leaned in, letting my broken heart mourn for all those that once sat at my table. Those who raised me, those I grew up with, for family that shared decades with me. And I cried for those who once sat at my table that I raised, mothered or mentored. For the kids that have sat around my table sharing their dreams, their gratitude at their young age. Including and especially, the twenty-six Thanksgivings I shared with Zane.

This year, I missed the physical presence of my family. All of them; those who join my table in heart and those who join my table in spirit. This year, I longed for the simple, naïve and joyful times of Thanksgivings past.

When Collective Grief Becomes Conflicted

November 23, 2025 / Mama Fish

I have been battling with conflicted grief lately. Conflicted because I feel one way but am expected to feel another way. It has me basking in a pool of self-reflection and personal judgement if I am behaving in the manner that honors my family’s needs without sacrificing my own.

Trying to not divulge too much, as the cause of this new grief is not my story to share, let’s just say that a family member has made decisions which has created a division of opinion and made gatherings uncomfortable if not impossible. And with the upcoming holiday season, I am anxious about where I should be and what I should do and how I should feel.

In the beginning, emotions were raw. Grief had just arrived and each of us handled it differently. I was accused of not being supportive enough as it appeared I wasn’t going to choose sides. With me, I saw we were all experiencing loss and thus my care-giving soul needed to hug everyone, which was frustrating for some.

Then, when enjoying tea with friends, one told me her story of how she was experiencing a very similar situation within her family. She shared how her heart was grieving and yet she felt she had to hide it or be ridiculed. As I listened to her, the actions of her family, the feelings for her person, the frustrations to be all to all, I found a kinship. Two mothers who feel that their grief must be ignored most days to ensure the happiness of everyone else.

Why as mothers do we feel this way. We are not told to do this and yet, we assign to ourselves an unspoken expectation that whatever road our family chooses to travel to support their needs is a road we must also travel with them. It is ludicrous as we know grief is a personal journey. But when there are layered reasons, tribulations, we want to be calm, to be comfort to their woes. How we feel becomes seemingly less relevant.

Moms don’t have strong boundaries, if any at all, when it comes to the wellbeing of their family. But we need them. Our heart is broken too. We are filled with grief and confusion and want to be present. For everyone. Can we create a space to support all those we love without judgement. Can we give each other the freedom to determine how one’s own grief is addressed. Can we be compassionate to the truth that we are all hurting. In different ways, for different reasons but we are all hurting. And can we give leniency to each other to be ourselves?

The answer needs to be yes. Perhaps the role of mother is only to start the process. An unsteady process that requires open communication, the setting aside of ego and the ability to put respect front and center. This doesn’t make collective grief any less ugly. Or easy. Hopefully, it will make room to reduce the conflict such grief carries; to explore collective pathways that will help comfort our grief. As a family and as individuals.

Who Will Cure My Grief?

November 9, 2025 / Mama Fish

As the ongoing parade of medical examinations unfold, I found myself at an appointment I didn’t expect this week. My oncologist, in my last appointment noticed there was mobility restriction in my right hand. He asked if I would be open to seeing an occupational therapist. I said yes. So, when the hospital called with a date to come in, I put on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt assuming it would involve exercises of some kind. And it did. Just not for my hand.

The young therapist was wonderfully cheery, asking how I found the roads to the hospital that morning as she had found traffic heavy. I agreed and we went into her office, continuing to chat about the weather. She asked if I was open to her starting my assessment with a couple of questions. I nodded. Her first question was what day it is. Thursday. What Province are we in. I stared at her. Alberta. What is the year. My mouth dropped.

I said, “oh my God, this is not about my hand, is it? This is a cognitive test you are giving me.” She was surprised I didn’t know. She explained how my doctors had referred me to her as I had expressed to both, I was feeling more brain fog than usual. She was a behavioural therapist who specializes in dementia caused by the effects of cancer. She admitted that she was testing me from the start; the question about traffic told her I could drive myself. “Are you ok with this?” she asked. “Bring it on”, I said.

My mother passed of Alzheimer’s. There is a 50% chance I could develop it because of her genetics. Of all the health issues I am battling, my memory was not on my radar. Yes, my brain hurts and memory is shoddy but stress, grief, and the multi-tasking I do daily is a more probable answer than dementia. At least I hope so.

At the end of the day, I passed with flying colors. She felt confident there was no memory issue with me and would send her report to my well-meaning doctors. She also suggested a program I could enroll in on tips to keep your memory sharp as you age. I signed up for that.

My health is important, and I have agreed to many courses and tests as we explore the reason for my chronic pain and heart problems. The fact that my doctors are now signing me up to specialists and sending in prescriptions without my awareness is something I questioned. The answer is I don’t mind; I’d just like to be informed so that I can be prepared for the next step. I am grateful they are exploring every possibility.

I keep asking how the emotional state might trigger illness. What role does heartache play in the long-term wellbeing of a patient. You can’t quantify loss. Grief does not show up in a blood test. Doctors are trained to take care of the body. But how do you scan and mend the soul that is broken?

When I expressed this frustration to my nutritionist, she asked, “Have you ever taken a reprieve from your old normal to discover what a new normal needs to be for you?” “No”, I replied. She sighed, “Perhaps your continuing attempt to keep doing everything you did before your grief arrived has caused an emotional burnout”. And with that, I have a new appointment to be seen by a mental health specialist.

The Magic of Muertos

November 2, 2025 / Mama Fish

It’s Dia de los Muertos season again. One of my favourite celebrations because it offers the opportunity to invite our loved ones of the other realm to visit us. I started this tradition after Zane was killed and each year its power of connection is felt stronger.

The altar, or ofrenda, is a space in your home that you allocate to display pictures and mementos of loved ones who have passed. It is a place of honor not of sadness. Decorated pieces you can add to the ofrenda are sugar skulls, candles, marigolds, ribbons, all in bright colors. Closer to the day food and beverage favourites are added to the ofrenda. There is no right or wrong way to embellish this space.

This year I gathered with three other mourning mamas to paint sugar skulls for our altars. It was an enjoyable afternoon of chatter, bonding and sharing of the strength it takes to live in two worlds.

Adding to my ofrenda, my sister gave me a canine skeleton ornament, small and grinning in blue and green shades, to represent my sweet Tango. I added a bowl and filled it with toasted pumpkin seeds, a family favorite at Halloween.

My daughter looked at our ofrenda and commented how many pictures we have. Too many. Yes, too many to which I am forever sad about and yet, this is the time of year where I feel less grief. I feel more connected. I know that the veil is thin now and the signs are easier to appear. It is an exciting time to watch and be open to the messages coming from Heaven.

I have been told by a couple of my fellow grief warrior moms that they understood Muertos through my sharing of the reasons I do this so tried it in their own homes. They too experience the healing effects felt in choosing a place of honor, finding the perfect picture, layering the decorated items among the candles. It is therapeutic to care for those not living here in such a simple remembrance. It is a good mourning tradition. A moment we know is heard as we whisper into the night, “Se que todavia estas aqui.” (I know you are still here).

The Choice to be Sunshine

October 26, 2025 / Mama Fish

Recently a friend was sharing with me his discoveries about life, living with a brain tumor. The bigger picture is becoming clearer. He seems to tolerate the meaningless details less. He is frustrated by his doctors’ lack of optimism. “They could keep their opinion to themselves”. He worries about the next MRI, the next possible seizure. And he truly misses the sweets he had to cut out of his diet to keep the (new) diabetes under control. His days are different, and he says his energy is now used to enjoy his present more.

He said visiting his ‘old buddies’ has a bigger importance. A priority for quick connections that always includes telling them how much they have meant, still mean to him. He has a deeper love for his wife, appreciating how much she worries and how many more tasks are on her list because of his health. He revels in the company of his children and grandchildren. Having lost his own father years ago, he sees how busy he was then to not fully comprehend his father’s death. Now facing a similar destiny, he talks to his children, planting seeds of fatherly wisdom that he hopes will bring them comfort one day.

He is currently enhancing their yard and hot tub area, which has always been his place of solace. “I want to enjoy it all winter…” his voice trails off. “And you will”, I say. “You never know”, he replies. Day by day, we live in hope that we will see another sunrise. If only we could always grasp life like those who do when death is apparent.

How hard is this? To live each day fully. It seems impossible most times and I wince with envy at the ones who seem to have sunshine follow them effortlessly. My friend’s conversation kept me up all night. What was his secret? Somewhere, in the early morning, it dawned on me. Before his cancer diagnosis, he was sunshine. He still is sunshine. Just more intense. There is no secret. Sunshine is a choice. He chooses to be sunshine, to accept that the future is a gift yet to be opened, that to live in the now is where to seek joy.

And if ‘the now’ isn’t good enough, change it. I have watched him over the last year, change the things that he could no longer do into new things he can do. I have watched his faith grow deeper as he leans on his God as the source of his power. I watched him take control of possible challenges that would arise and solve them before they became bigger. I think the magic recipe to happiness is to know what you want and to go after it unapologetically.

He has encouraged me. The question, what do you want must be answered. He knows he wants a winter hot tub. Thus, it became clear what is needed to be done for that to happen. And the result will be a season of hot steamy soaks for my friend. How blissful is that!

I am going to hold a conversation with my grief. What does it need to be less rainstorm and more rainbow? And when the answer appears, I will chase it with gusto.

Moments of Thanksgiving

October 12, 2025 / Mama Fish

Thanksgiving, the annual event where family and friends gather to celebrate all that is good. It is a time to reflect on the experiences of the past year, being grateful for what we have received. “How lucky are we.” It is also a lonely time for those feeling not so lucky. This year, I have struggled and found myself questioning the meaning of the holiday.

For those in my close circle, life has been overshadowed by job loss, poor health, vanished love, and more death. All things no one wants to celebrate. And we are not a whoa-is-me clan. We rally, kick off the mud, and carry on. It just leaves us tired. And that shows hard this year. So, pulling out all my positive mantras and ‘happy camper’ attitudes, I challenged my summarization that this was a crappy year.

I have enjoyed family from afar that have come to visit us, filling my mind with new memories of laughter shared.

I am blessed to have travelled to Ireland with my daughter, husband and my son’s spirit. What an incredible trip that will always fill my heart with the joy of the experience of such a beautiful place. A bonus was my sweet friend, and her family joined to guide us through their homeland. And we all came back safe. Big thanks to Payton for making it happen.

I relished in my annual traditions. Going to Canmore, the Stampede, Mameo and summer drinks on roof top patios. I even enjoyed our tiny deck more this year, ensuring that cocktails became a daily pleasure in the afternoon sun.

Even alongside the tough moments, there have been glimmers of gratitude. Visits with a close friend who has a brain tumor; he continues to share his sense of humor with us, always managing to make us feel loved. My ‘bonus kids’ inviting us to happy celebrations and calling on me for support in rough times. How lucky am I to be able to be there for them. And they for me. Blessings sometime come wrapped up in the strength of connection to face adversity.

Attitudes of how we view life are empowering. It is the only control we have; the decision how we choose to look at what we are dealt with. The good, the bad and the ugly. Challenging times can dominate the better times, and we tend to wallow in a pool of self-claimed pity. It leads us away from the high vibrancy level we need to be our best for those here and those on the other realm. While I believe in having a deserving minute to pout…staying there is not an option for good health.

Perhaps that is my Thanksgiving lesson. Knowing that each moment is its own, I must live each moment, regardless of its content, accepting that the next moment will be different. Although this year has brought big sadness and new concerns, if I choose to thrive in the moments of Thanksgiving that were also served this year, I will find the strength I need.

May each of you hold close to the people and things that bring you peace, that give you joy. And may you receive blessings that remind you, even in our dark days, there are bright moments. Hang tight to those.

Using Music As a Time Machine

October 5, 2025 / Mama Fish

Recently I had the opportunity to look after a friend’s home while she was away. We kidded it might be a vacation for me. Although work was still on the calendar, I did rearrange things such that I had a lot of time alone. What I discovered was a missing piece to my serenity.

Only my family knew where I was staying, and they honored me with the solitude I was asking for. When I first arrived, my mornings began reading a chapter of my book and then a meditation in the sunshine of her east backyard. The only sound was the passing of cars. I spent the day working from her bright kitchen, taking time for lunch and finishing early to run errands or meet a friend for happy hour. I’d come home to the smells of the crockpot dinner I had organized earlier.

All this made me feel brave enough to experiment. I poured a glass of wine and asked Google to play Boston. I wasn’t sure if the music would trigger me when I was feeling so Zen-like and thought if it did, it didn’t matter. I was alone. As if my Angels were thinking the same thing, the first song to come over the speaker was “More than a feeling”-my favorite. It took me back to the summer of 1977 in Montana and I found myself dancing, singing the lyrics out loud. The songs took me back to the girl I used to be.

I enlisted this musical therapy each afternoon after that. Asking Google to play Journey, Cat Stevens, Shawn Phillips, Roberta Flack. The music of my youth. Before I got busy, old, forgotten. They were affirmations that rejuvenated something deep within. They carried laughter and tears with each tune.

And with each play, I remembered the messages that became the foundation of my beliefs, of what I wanted for earth, for life, for love. For myself. I couldn’t wait for the workday to end such that I would be alone, sitting and listening to the lessons taught to me in the early days. Before regrets, before tragedy.

“…The girl child of loveliness…woman, angry now… woman, of the land, …” I am back to my youth. I am wearing long flowing dresses of cotton, and gold bangles adorn my arm. I am fearless. I am confident. I am saving the underdog. I have purpose. The music of my youth flooded over me with happy memories of all that was possible. I am transferred to another time. And then the songs end, and I sit in the quiet and ask myself, “Where, oh God, where is she now?”

Music is powerful because it speaks to the soul. The lyrics are lessons, reminders, encouragement of who we are. Or were. Or want to be. When we are young, they are idealistic. Listening to the lyrics now, much older, the phrases cut deeper, shout out louder. That was the interesting discovery I made listening to music from my youth.

Songs can fill our heart with hope, joy or at the very least, reflection. Music was so important to me. It was my lifeline in times when I was struggling and felt that no one was listening. Zane loved music. It was his lifeline also. Maybe for the same reasons. Maybe for different reasons. I can add that to my list of topics to talk to him about when we are together again.

What I do know is that his love for music, he shared with me. I get how and why it is the best free therapy available. I am glad he consumed it. His love for music was why it has always been my biggest trigger. In my grief, I was forgetting that it is also therapy. Therapy that I didn’t know I needed until I was singing along with the memories of my own youth.